


Bells and Cups

by PeachyKeen_WithCream



Category: X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Drabble, F/M, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8641132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyKeen_WithCream/pseuds/PeachyKeen_WithCream
Summary: Kurt is asexual and Rogue is perfectly fine with that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own 'X-Men' nor am I profiting off this.

sight:

The table is fairly new, although someone has already decorated it with deep burns, dents and scratches. 

Rogue runs her fingers along the wood and glances at the clock; fifteen minutes to bed. Other students are getting ready for bed: changing into pajamas, brushing their teeth, fighting their way into a bathroom or slinking into bed. 

Her gloved finger catch in a dent and she lifts it. 

“Ororo will have a fit.” She says, flicking the ash off. 

Kurt runs his fingers along the chipped edge of a mug. Nothing is broken to him - everything is exactly as it should be. 

"Do you have tuck in duty tonight?"

Kurt’s finger dips into the chip, yellow eyes blinking rapidly. His tail flicks back and forth, curling into a question mark.

“I owe a story tomorrow,” he says, "But I did not promise tucking in.” 

Rogue scoops the ashes into her hand and scrapes the chair back, depositing them into the sink. A stroke across his palm and she walks for her bedroom. 

smell:

Everything which Kurt comes into contact with smells like sulfur for a few hours. The smell takes some getting used to. Especially whenever he begins to make her tea, stench clinging around the rim of the cup and nearly enveloping the flavor. Rogue rubs at her shoulder, rolling it carefully as he sets the tray down.

“Blue cups?” Her eyebrows shoot to her hairline. Kurt shrugs and settles next to her on the couch, tail settling across her shoulders.

“Everyzing else was dirty.” 

Mint tea is not her particular favorite, but strong enough to combat the smell. His tail pets her shoulder, light and careful brushes. Rogue curls her fingers around his knee and squeezes in time with his brushings.

sound:

Rogue bites her lip, fingers quivering as she flicks the bell dangling off Kurt’s tail. It chimes and wiggles back and forth. 

“I'm sorry, sugah,” She giggles, “You're just too quiet sometimes.” 

Kurt’s eyes flicker towards her feet, bare and quiet. 

By the next fencing lesson she walks there jingling.

taste:

Kurt’s lips are cold - bordering on the frigid. The tip of her nose is reddened with illness and now the chill from outside.

“I'm going to get you sick.” She whines and yanks her scarf over her face. Kurt looks thoroughly unimpressed, flashing a sharp smile. 

The next week is met with Kurt sniffling and scowling about the amount of tea forced into him. Rogue watches Errol Flynn movies on repeat and dumps out trash cans full of tissues.

touch:

Kurt burrows beneath the covers, rolling a nest until he is curled like a cat. Yellow eyes peek at her from beneath the layers, three fingered hand crawling out to poke at her ankle. 

“My feet are cold.” She warns and presses them against his leg. It is the most invitation he needs to lift the blankets into the fort. Rogue crawls across her belly and under his tail, into the warmth of his nest.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this for my twentieth birthday, but Thanksgiving morning seems an appropriate time for reposting.


End file.
